👁 | lucky (day 7)

There was a moment in the tunnels where Lucky thought he would die. After all of that. His feet dragged him around the labyrinth and propelled him through the low openings that he chased Rhys through to get this far. Maybe trapping the boy would have been a better idea in hindsight. Lucky knew it was closer than it should have been in the caverns. Steeled and steadfast as Rhys was, he never should've broken a sweat.

His skin broke first, his heart second, and his eyepatch, the "accessory" he relied on most to keep his guard up, snapped in two last. Lucky covered that side of his face, unsure of where the cameras were that might catch him at his most vulnerable. He kept the hood of his cloak, somehow the one thing that didn’t get torn or rippled in the fight, tight across his head. The boy felt naked without it. It was the perfect distraction: the District Four boy, the pirate, the eyepatch boy. Not the boy without an eye.

Lucky moved silently through the strip mines, retracing his steps back to the peridot and citrine caverns. The light made him more paranoid. He couldn't hide behind the darkness. The light revealed him as he walked toward his miniature companion who marched around his satchel. The thing jumped at the sight, running toward him all caught up on the strap of Lucky's bag. It blinked at him, already pointing out the obvious.

"Give me that," he demanded, ripping the satchel out from under his one-eyed friend. Lucky dug for the bandages and thread in his medical kit. He laid them out on the ground and dug frantically into the pockets of his ripped jeans. He pulled the eyepatch out and immediately got to work. Sewing, knotting, praying that it could be repaired. Lucky faced the wall, hiding his face. The eyepatch came before the rips and tears. How could his body heal if the part of him that Lucky hid was left exposed?

"Come on, come on!" He shouted at the black leather to obey his fingertips and tie itself together. But each time, it failed. First, the thread snapped, and then, on the second try, the bandages weren't strong enough to hold up. "Work! You stupid piece of…" he was speaking to himself as much as he was to the fingertips that shook in frustration. On the third attempt, the bandage wrap stretched and tore, and on the fourth, Lucky poked his index finger with the tip of his needle. "Oh… my… GOD." Exhausted and embarrassed, Lucky swatted his hand against the cavern walls. His screams, which reverberated across the walls, were a mix of frustration and humiliation. Rita would've known just the right thing to say. She did after the mine's collapse when Lucky told her Gun kissed him. Where was she and her warm and understanding heart now?

It was just an eyepatch, how hard could it be? With three more failed attempts, Lucky collapsed onto the mine's floor in tears. He pulled the Grudge to his side and wrapped it around his arms. "I'm just so tired," he spoke into the muzzle of the shotgun. He was good at almost everything the arena called for, but sewing an eyepatch strap the width of a finger was where he failed. That was where he crumbled.

How long Lucky slept on the floor, cradling the shotgun like it was the width of Gunner's bicep. He heard the one-eyed creature tapping around him. Lucky's eye opened, waking up to the creature wrapping bandages around his leg– "OW!" Lucky winced. "Too tight, too tight!" He hated the thing but appreciated it for playing nurse. With his wounds covered, Lucky sat up. A sponsorship parachute dangled from the tips of his shoe. It was so light in weight that he almost didn't see it. How did a parachute make it into a fully covered cavern with a ceiling? Lucky wasn't sure, but he tore into the package and pulled out a case.

Inside was an eyepatch, nearly identical to his first, but bedazzled with a variety of jewels and stones. Underneath was a note: Cover that ghastly thing up. -Mr. Ivan

Lucky covered it up immediately, wrapping the strap over and around his face. He wiped the old dried-up tears from the left side of his face and rose from the cavern floor. "Thank you, Mr. Ivan." He gave the Gamemaker a thumbs up, spinning around the cavern so the cameras couldn't miss it. "I feel better now."

It was better to show his humanity to the rest of Panem than the other tributes who still walked the arena.